


I Heard You

by PinningSince1887 (TwistOfLily)



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Johnlock - Freeform, Johnlock Gift Exchange, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-23
Updated: 2015-12-23
Packaged: 2018-05-08 17:15:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5506208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TwistOfLily/pseuds/PinningSince1887
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John gets hurt and feelings come out. There's a bit of smut and some fluff and a happy ending</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Heard You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [slashscribe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/slashscribe/gifts).



> This is the first thing I've written in years that hasn't been an essay, so I'm a little rusty. I took part in the justjohnlockstuff gift exchange on tumblr and this is my first completed and published piece. Honestly I had a lot of fun writing it, I would've liked to add a lot more to it but I ran out of time. It also hasn't been beta'd because a) I'm still a little baby in the fandom and haven't really talked to that many people, and b) the time issue again, so any and all mistakes are mine but I've read through it a few times so hopefully there won't be too many.

"You're going to hear and feel ribs breaking, and that's okay, it means you're doing it right. Once you've made it up to thirty you're going to place one hand on the forehead and two fingers on the bottom of the chin to tilt the head back and then lean down to listen for breath."

"You think I don't know how to do CPR?" Sherlock quipped.

John's face softened a little "Sherlock, love, if something ever happens to me you want to know how to handle it. Besides, you asked to go through this with me."

"But this is getting so boring. Nothing's ever going to happen to you, I wouldn't let it." He stepped closer to John and leaned down, closing the space between their faces, feeling his lips touch against his own. There was no drug in the world that compared to what John did to him, the way he felt. The whole world just fell away.

"You're not always going to be able to protect me in the real world, not like you can in here." John murmured quietly against Sherlock’s lips.

Before he could argue there was the sound of a door closing and Sherlock was suddenly draped over the couch in 221b in his dressing gown. He shook his head a little to clear it - his mind palace was beginning to feel more and more like the real world. There was the faint sound of John talking in the background, something about how Sherlock hadn't moved all day. But there were more important things to worry about right then.

Every time he tried to get mind palace John to reteach him the basic first aid he had learnt so long ago he always got distracted, and that wasn't doing anyone any good. There was this constant fear that something beyond horrible would one day happen to John, that John would get hurt while working alongside him and that he wouldn't be able to do anything to help. And at the rate he was going, the only thing he'd be able to do is stand and watch as John died. Which was something he'd never be able to forgive himself for. And so, there only reasonable solution was to learn how to save John. He'd tried going back and relearning things he already knew, it was usually much less tedious to do it through his Mind Palace. But whenever he tried John was at every corner, sometimes helping, but usually hindering. He always seemed to lose his focus was John was around. The only reasonable solution now was to learn outside of the mind palace. Maybe he'd take a look through John's medical journals while he was at work.

"Sherlock, are you even listening to me?"

Sherlock's head turned towards John. "What? Yes, of course I'm listening. Do go on."

John let out this exasperated noise "There is nothing to go on about! Sherlock, I asked you yesterday to please remove the bloody body parts from the fridge. You've done nothing but lie on this couch all day," He made a gesture towards the couch "meanwhile there are fingers that are rotting with the leftover takeout that I would've very much liked to eat tonight!"

"Oh John, don't be ridiculous. The fingers are contained in their own bag, your precious takeout is perfectly safe."

"That's not the point and you know it. It's disgusting, Sherlock. You're not even using them anymore so throw them out."

There was a loud bang as John stormed into the bathroom and a few seconds later the sound of the shower running could be heard through the door. Sherlock shrugged and turned around to face the back of the couch. As much as he knew he should do...whatever it was that John wanted him to do to make him happy, Mind Palace John was beckoning him. He could practically taste his lips before his eyes even closed.

John wanted nothing more than to sink into his warm bed and sleep for days on end. It had been a rough fucking day filled with back to back patients and only ten minutes for lunch. He had seen way too many snotty, runny nosed kids and had written out so many prescriptions and notes that his hand had started cramping three hours before his shift was even over. Apparently everyone in London had decided to go see Dr. Watson that day. John let the hot water stream over him for a few minutes. He closed his eyes and thought of nothing.

Absentmindedly he started his shower routine.

Shampoo.

_I can't believe Sherlock still hasn't gotten rid of those obscene fingers._

Rinse.

_Even though he's done absolutely nothing all day and he knows I've had a hard day._

Conditioner.

_Unless he doesn't know, maybe he didn't notice._

Rinse.

_Of course he noticed, who the fuck am I kidding?_

Soap.

_I've had the day from hell and here he his lounging about in his bloody dressing gown and flimsy pyjamas._

Lather.

But god, those pyjamas were really something. They were tight in all the right places and so thin that John could practically see right through them. He started to get hard just thinking about it.

_No, sod this. I’m not wanking to the man who leaves decomposing body parts next to my dinner._

John tried to rinse the soap off of his body while ignoring the intrusive thoughts of Sherlock, but that lasted all of thirty seconds. Sometimes needs just could not be ignored and after the day he’d had John figured he deserved some release. He knew he would never be able to have Sherlock, not the way he really wanted to, not the ‘ _I’ve been in love with you for years now and I’d really like to get together so we can catch up on lost time_ ’ kind of way, and so John knew that one day he’d have to stop thinking of his flatmate while getting off. But today was not that day, so he took himself in his hand and let thoughts of Sherlock just wash over him.

Sherlock returned to Mind Palace John as if no time had passed in the real world. He knew exactly how long it took John to shower, including the angry wank he was about to have in there, and exactly how long it took him to go upstairs, feel slightly guilty about said wank (though Sherlock had yet to figure out exactly why John always felt guilty), get dressed, come back downstairs, go into the kitchen and make a cup of tea before he finally came and sat in the living room. It gave Sherlock plenty of time to have a discreet, guilt-free wank.

Back in his Mind Palace things were progressing quickly. John already had Sherlock pressed up against his bedroom door with his leg slotted between his. As soon as he started moving his hips and grinding his cock against John, he let a sigh escape his mouth. John pressed warm, eager kisses along Sherlock’s jaw, down his neck, and back up, all the way to his ear. Sherlock then felt John’s hand undo his trousers, reach inside his pants, and pulled out his cock. He gently slid his thumb over the slit a few times before he started stroking soft and long strokes that drove Sherlock crazy.

Sherlock groaned, nothing, no one, had ever made him feel the way John did.

“Look at you, moaning already,” John whispered hoarsely right next to his ear, his own cock hard and grinding against Sherlock’s thigh. He started stroking faster, harder. “God, Sherlock, your cock feels so good in my hand.” John started leaving hot, wet kisses back down his neck, throwing in the occasional bite that left Sherlock melting and gasping. “You’re so responsive, so beautiful. I could spend all day just kissing your gorgeous body.”

(Sherlock knew he had a praise kink, it was obvious from the first time real world John had complimented him. As for any other kinks, well he didn’t know. He’d never gotten himself in a situation that would’ve allowed him to collect any kind of data.)

He heard John come out of the shower, and knew he only had a few minutes to finish.

Mind Palace John was definitely helping him reach that goal.

“Sherlock, I want you to come for me, alright?” He tightened his grip on Sherlock’s cock a little more and started moving his hand a little faster. “I want you to come for me, all over my hand, and I’m going to watch and tell you how bloody amazing you are.” There it was, that feeling in the pit of his stomach, that extra tightness in his balls. Sherlock knew if John just kept talking he would come.

“I wish you could see how you looked right now. With that gorgeous glow on your face, that shine on your cock.” More kisses along Sherlock’s collar bone. His breathing was started to become slightly laboured, his hips started thrusting in irregular patterns. Just a little more.

“I can just imagine how you’d look sprawled underneath me in bed with my cock deep inside you.”

More kisses. “You’re doing so good Sherlock,” John purred “I can feel how close you are. Come for me, love, I know you can.”

And that was all it took.

Things were always a little hazy during the transition from Mind Palace back to reality. He felt himself come all over John’s hand, however when Sherlock opened his eyes he saw that he had instinctively came in his own hand, catching everything. Which made cleaning up a lot faster. He reached under the couch and pulled out the box of tissues. He cleaned off his hand and his cock, and got up off the couch, pushing the box back underneath. He made his way to the kitchen and threw the used tissues into the bin. He then reached over, opened the fridge, grabbed the bag of fingers and also threw them in the bin, covering any evidence. Not that John would’ve noticed anyway. Sherlock was back on the couch by the time John came down to make his tea.

When John came into the living room Sherlock heard him stop dead in his tracks and could practically feel him roll his eyes. “I can’t believe you haven’t even moved.”

Sherlock cracked open his eyes, completely ignoring John’s comment. “Have you made me a cup?”

“Here.” He thrust a cup towards Sherlock, who sat up and accepted it with a small smile.

 

*******************************

 

When Sherlock rounded the corner into the alley he anticipated seeing John already fighting the suspect. They had gotten this case about a week ago and it had been brilliant from the start. Sherlock was absolutely certain that all their hard work would pay off tonight. That was the plan, Sherlock always had a plan. When they split up he knew John would get to the suspect first. He also knew John could handle himself in the forty seven extra seconds it would take Sherlock to catch up to him. John was a soldier, after all. However what he hadn’t anticipated was that there would be two suspects. Two very armed and very dangerous suspects. Sherlock rounded the corner just in time to watch them get away.

He would’ve gone after them, excited to keep the chase going, but there was something wrong with John. He was just standing there, staring at Sherlock, wide eyed and confused. Sherlock didn’t even have time to formulate a question before John started toppling over, his eyes fluttering shut. Sherlock rushed over to him, barely able to stop John’s head from hitting the hard pavement as he fell. Sherlock sank to the cold, damp grown along with John, cradling his head in his lap.

“John! John!” Sherlock felt nothing but blind panic rise into his chest. _What do I do? What do I do?!_

The first thing that sprang to his mind was John’s voice “Put your hand on the forehead and fingers under the chin, tilt the head back to listen for breath…”

Sherlock had started following the instructions before he even realized what it was he was doing. “No. That’s CPR. He doesn’t need CPR. Stupid. Stupid.” More panic. “John, please, you need to wake up, I don’t know how to help you. Please!”

He had to go to his Mind Palace. There had to be something there to help John. But when he tried, the only thing he had left was the entrance – everything else had crumbled. Without John, his world had crumbled.

“Without you there’s nothing,” Sherlock pleaded.

There was too much panic, nothing made sense. He didn’t even notice the sound of approaching sirens in the distance. Sherlock’s hands starting moving down John’s body, searching for what – he had no idea. When he got to John’s stomach that was when he felt it. It was warm and wet and sticky and so, so wrong. There was blood. So much blood. Within seconds Sherlock’s hands were soaked. Oh god, he had never seen this much blood.

“John! John please, please don’t leave me, I need you here.” He took John’s face in his hands, covering his cheeks with blood, but that didn’t matter now. Nothing mattered without John. The back of Sherlock’s throat began to burn, his eyes were stinging.

“John, please! I didn’t know, I didn’t know. I should’ve known, I should’ve seen. I’m so sorry,” A sob escaped his lips. There was nothing he could do but plead and cry. “I’m so sorry about everything, I keep trying to make it better but I can’t – I don’t know how. After Mary I just wanted to make things normal…I – I just wanted to keep you safe, stop you from hurting.” Sherlock stopped trying to hold back his tears. “John, please come back to me, please let me try again. I – I can’t do this without you.”

Something inside him crumbled. Sherlock just let himself fall forward, his forehead pressed against John’s, his eyes closed.

“John, please,” he whispered in pure desperation, “I love you…”

Moments later the quiet alley was suddenly filled with an overwhelming amount of noise: sirens and car doors slamming and people running and shouting. Chaos. Confusion. Lestrade was the first person to find them.

“Sherlock! What happened?” When Sherlock didn’t respond Lestrade grabbed his shoulder, pushed him up, and turned his head towards him “What happened?” he asked again with more insistence.

Sherlock’s face was streaked with tears and blood “I don’t – I tired but – I didn’t – I couldn’t,”

“Okay, alright. Just hang tight, okay? I’ve got an ambulance with me.” Judging by John’s state Greg did not have time to try to figure out what Sherlock was trying to tell him. He knew that something like this was going to happen tonight with the two of them chasing a criminal that was that dangerous. He just thought that the ambulance would be for the suspect, not for John.

It took under three minutes for the EMS team to get John into the ambulance and on the way to the hospital. Of course this made no difference for Sherlock, who was still kneeling on the ground with the most broken expression on his face. Once all the commotion had died down, Lestrade went to sit in front of him.

“Sherlock, come on, let’s get you cleaned up.” Nothing, not even a blink. Greg sighed and tried physical contact again. He grasped Sherlock’s shoulder firmly. “Sherlock?” That seemed to do it.

“John,” his voice was hoarse “he’s gone.”

Greg couldn’t tell if it was a question or a statement. “Yes, the ambulance took him away a few minutes ago. He’ll be at the hospital soon.”

For the first time that night Sherlock looked at Greg instead of past him, “I have to go.” He got up, stiff from being on the ground that long, and started walking away with the Detective Inspector going after him.

“The only place you’re going looking like that is home so we can get you cleaned up.”

“I need to see John.”

“And you will. After you’ve showered.”

 

Sherlock will be the first to admit, not to anyone else but to himself at least, that he got lost in the rubble of his Mind Palace searching for John. The entire evening was very fuzzy. He remembered finding John and crying and telling him all sorts of things. Sentiment. Very human. And then there was the Mind Palace which was an interesting puzzle all on its own. Sherlock definitely thought that he would be more aware if something were to happen to his Mind Palace, he thought there might have been sirens or alarms or something to let him know that something was going wrong instead of everything suddenly collapsing. Sentiment again. Loss of John meant a loss of purpose, and having no purpose meant not needing any of the things he had stored away in there. He hadn’t even realized that he’d started looking for John until Greg pulled him out. But now that he’d showered and changed his clothes he felt clearer, ready to see real world John. However the nurse at the desk was making that a difficult task.

“I’m sorry sir but Mr. Watson is in the intensive care unit, his condition is still critical. I can’t let you see him.”

“It’s Dr. Watson,” Sherlock retorted “and I need to see him immediately.”

The nurse shook her head “I’m sorry but you’re going to have to wait. Only immediate family is allowed in.”

“I am his family.” Sherlock insisted, desperately trying not to shout at the incompetent woman.

Lestrade huffed in the background “Oh for god’s sake.”

The nurse eyed Sherlock suspiciously “And exactly how are you related to Dr. Watson?”

“He’s my partner.” Sherlock said, putting on his best impression of a worried spouse.

“Oh I’m sorry,” the nurse scrambled. She had clearly experienced discriminatory remarks about her own sexual orientation and so felt guilty about the fact that she hadn’t taken into the account the possibility that Sherlock and John might be together. “I had no idea. You can go on ahead, Dr. Watson’s just down the hall in room 217.”

She had barely finished her sentence before Sherlock dashed towards John, leaving a confused Lestrade in the waiting room.

John looked horrible. He had way too many tubes stuck in him, helping him stay alive when he should’ve been at Baker Street just sleeping off a few scrapes on their couch where Mrs. Hudson could make him tea and Sherlock could keep an eye on him while finishing up the case. Despite all of this, Sherlock had never been happier to see John because this meant that he was alive.

“You could’ve died,” he murmured quietly next to John “You could’ve died and it would’ve been all my fault.”

Sherlock just wanted to lean down and kiss John’s forehead, just to let him know that he was there, he was there and he wasn’t leaving. He wanted to lie down beside John and warp him up in his arms. He wanted John to feel safe, to know that he wasn’t alone and that he wasn’t going to be alone ever again. Instead, Sherlock settled for simply sitting in the chair beside the bed and taking John’s hand in his. He squeezed it a little.

“John, I am so sorry. About everything. I thought that I lost you, I thought that you were gone and that I’d have to be alone, really, truly alone. I didn’t know what it was like to be alone until you weren’t there anymore.” Sherlock cleared his throat “And I never want to go through that again.”

He sat back, not letting go of John’s hand quite yet. He had gotten so many things wrong tonight and it had almost cost John his life. Sherlock had to make sure that these people paid for what they did to John. He had already told Lestrade everything he knew, gave him some fool proof directions on how to proceed with the case. The only thing he could do now was hope that the police didn’t bugger anything up because there was no way he was leaving this hospital room to go help them. John needed him and the rest of the world could wait.

 

Turns out that watching John sleep, or be unconscious, it was hard to be sure, was in fact very boring, no matter how much Sherlock loved him. Short of eating and sleeping – two things which Sherlock had done yesterday and didn’t need to do again any time soon – there wasn’t much for him to do now that he knew that John was safe and being taken care of. He ended up finding himself starting to rebuild his Mind Palace. It was a slow process, trying to sort through the rubble to decide what to keep and what to throw away, but it needed to be done.

This new Mind Palace, Sherlock had decided, would be built around John instead of trying to squeeze John into every corner, like he had done with the last one. Sherlock knew that making John his foundation was risky, especially looking back on what had just happened. If something permanent should ever happen to John, it was certain that Sherlock’s new Mind Palace would be gone forever in the blink of an eye. It was a stupid move, overflowing with sentiment. Mycroft would surely scold him if he ever found out. But none of that mattered. John was Sherlock’s foundation, he was his light. If John ever died Sherlock would have nothing left, he would never revisit his Mind Palace again and so there really was no point in rebuilding it to stand that kind of blow. Sherlock kept building through the night, occasionally surfacing into the real world to check up on John and stretch his legs.

By the time the sun came up the next morning a new and improved Mind Palace existed, though it was a considerable size smaller than the last one. A lot of stuff had been lost but that was a price Sherlock was willing to pay. He had just gotten up for one more lap around the room when John started to stir. Sherlock went over and immediately sat down beside him “John?” He asked softly, not wanting to wake him up. He gently put his hand in John’s, not imposing anything but merely trying to comfort. Fingers tightened around his.

“Sherlock?” John’s voice was barely above a whisper. His eyes cracked open and he looked up at Sherlock with a bit of fear but mostly confusion, “What happened?”

“I suppose you wouldn’t remember much.” Sherlock sighed “You were stabbed a few times by the suspects we were chasing down the alley. I was caught up too late to stop them…or to help. You were in critical condition for a little while, but they were able to stabilize you throughout the night.”

John closed his eyes and let the words sink in. He could dimly recall running down the alley, but after that things got blurry. He remembered the sounds though, the paramedics talking to him, Greg yelling, the sound of sirens approaching, Sherlock’s voice. Sherlock’s voice. There was something important about that, something he needed to tell Sherlock. But he just couldn’t work through the fog.

“John?” Sherlock sounded worried, stern but still worried. “Did you hear me?”

John opened his eyes and saw Sherlock’s face, significantly closer than it had been before. It was clouded with concern, his eyes were still as piercing as ever but filled with sadness. For him. Sherlock was sad and worried about him. He felt his gut tighten a little. He tried to smile, and hoped it was comforting. “Yeah, yeah, I heard you.”

Sherlock’s face softened a little bit, but the sadness was still there. “Good. You should get some more rest.”

“What about the case?” John’s eyelids were starting to flutter shut again, but he needed to know how last night had ended. “Did you catch whoever…?”

Sherlock shook his head. “No, they got away. Lestrade’s working on it now. We should get some news soon if they follow my directions.”

“Why don’t you just go with them?”

“Because I need to be here.” His voice was comforting but firm at the same time, it told John not to argue with him. Not that he had the strength to do that anyway. “Rest now.”

John had just closed his eyes again when he heard the nurse walk in. She looked at Sherlock who seemingly hadn’t moved all night.

“Sir, you know your husband is going to be just fine. It would probably do you some good to stretch your legs and get something to eat, from what I’ve seen you’ve been here all night.”

“I’m fine.” Sherlock replied coolly “I ate yesterday.”

“Yesterday?” Clearly she was alarmed.

Sherlock waved his hand in dismissal “My body’s just a transport, I don’t need to eat every day.”

“Sir you can’t go a whole day without eating, your body needs food to function properly.”

“It’s. Just. Transport.” He snapped “I don’t need to eat. I don’t need to sleep. I don’t need to do anything until John is out of here and back home where he belongs.” Why didn’t people just understand? He needed John to be home with him. He needed John to be okay. He needed John to be healthy. He needed John. His body’s needs could wait. The world could wait. The nurse huffed a little bit but went on with her routine.

When she left John opened his eyes again. “Uh…Sherlock?”

“What?!” _Oh no_. He really hadn’t meant for it to come out so harshly. “John, I didn’t mean to – “

“What? No, Sherlock it’s fine. Listen, I might be delirious but did the nurse just say husband?” As much as John had always hoped, he knew it couldn’t be true…unless he was seriously hit on the head and forgot a milestone as important as getting married to Sherlock.

“Oh. Yes. That. Everyone thinks were married. It’s not important. Go back to sleep.”

“Not important? Sherlock, how did that happen?”

Sherlock shrugged, “Simple, really." He didn’t elaborate.

“Sherlock!”

He huffed. “They wouldn’t let me see you while you were in critical condition. Only immediate family is allowed. And since I look absolutely nothing like you,” He gestured to John as if that would prove his point “I told them I was your partner. Which isn’t an entire lie since we are technically business partners of a sort. And obviously they were stupid enough not to question it.”

“Right, okay…” As he went back to sleep, John couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed.

 

*******************************************************

 

It took a while but John was finally back at Baker Street and on the fast road to recovery. During his time at the hospital the suspects of that particular case had been caught and they were now awaiting trial. John’s mind fog had cleared up entirely, which probably left him more confused than if it hadn’t.

Sherlock loved him.

Or at least, that’s what he told John when he thought John was dying. Did he still love him now that he was going to live? Did he even mean to say it or did it just slip out in a moment of desperation? The thing was that John loved him too. He had loved Sherlock since the moment he saw him. He just never thought that Sherlock felt things like that, and once he realized he did it was too late. But now Mary was gone, and the baby was an entire other lie on its own, John could finally have Sherlock to himself. The problem was that ever since he came back Sherlock had been so distant, as if he didn’t want anything to do with John at all. He must’ve misread the signs or something.

But things were different now, maybe. Either way he had to at least tell Sherlock what he’d heard, it was only fair really. Tell Sherlock and let him decide where to go from there.

Sherlock had just brought him a cup of tea on the couch (he had been doing that a lot since John came back, trying to be helpful but not saying much, not wanted to overstep.).

“Sherlock,” John cleared his throat “Can you come sit for a minute?”

Sherlock blinked a couple of times and went to sit down beside John. “Is there something wrong? Do you need something? Is your tea too cold, because I can go make you another cup.”

Ever since John had been home from the hospital Sherlock had been trying so hard to provide for him, make things easier for him. The problem was that he still wasn’t sure if John had heard him that night in the alley, and if he hadn’t, well, Sherlock didn’t want to go ruin what they had by making it obvious now. It was so frustrating how he could read the rest of the world without a problem but when it came to John Watson’s feelings towards Sherlock, he always drew up a blank. When John didn’t answer right away Sherlock started getting up, prepared to go get him whatever he needed. But instead John smiled a little and pressed his hand against Sherlock’s arm, making him sit back down.

“No, it’s okay, you’ve done more than enough for me. Just sit, please.” John took a deep breath glancing at Sherlock, who looked just as tense as he felt. He decided to dive right in, no beating around the bush. “I heard you.” Although perhaps in hindsight it might have been a good idea to give Sherlock some sort of context.

“John, you’re going to have to be a bit more specific than that seeing as I always assume that you listen when I talk.” Despite the cool exterior he hoped he was projecting, Sherlock was terrified that John might be talking about that one thing he wished John hadn’t heard. However Sherlock knew the signs: the tremor in John’s hand, the fact that he couldn’t even bring himself to look at Sherlock. He braced himself for the worst. John was about to tell him that he had heard him that night and now that he was better he was going to be moving out shortly because as much as he had enjoyed their friendship he couldn’t live with a man who was in love with him. Not that Sherlock could blame him. He was a freak who always drove people away, it was just a matter of time before he pushed John too far and he left too. And really, he had stayed longer than Sherlock could’ve ever hoped for. Even so, nothing could prepare him for the heartbreak that would come. Seeing John move out of Baker Street again was going to be the single hardest thing Sherlock had ever had to do. He was probably even expected to help him. The flat was going to be so empty without John, Sherlock was going to be so empty without John. Nothing was ever going to be the same. He would be alone again. But at least John would be alive, and happy, which was all that mattered.

“Sherlock? Did you hear me?” John’s hand squeezed his shoulder as he tried to bring Sherlock back to reality. Typical. As soon as John tried to talk to Sherlock about something important he just tuned him out.

“Sherlock? I said that I had heard you in the alley, when you said,” John took a breath again, for some reason it was harder getting the words out the second time around. “When you told me that you, well when you told me that you loved me.”

The words hung heavy around them for a moment. It took Sherlock so long to reply that John thought he had actually tuned him out again.

Sherlock stood up, not daring to look at John for fear that he might see how broken he was “I was afraid of that. John, I understand if you want to move out, I’m sure we can have something arranged to get you a new place as quickly as possible.”

“What? Sherlock,” John stood up and placed himself in front of the taller man “I’m not going anywhere…unless you want me to that is.” Sherlock’s eyes had turned a dark blue with sadness. It was different than the sadness at the hospital, John had never seen him look this way before: broken. “Do you really think I’d want to move out now? After everything we’ve been through.”

Sherlock’s gut wrenched, he didn’t know. He didn’t know. The thing about love was that it was so illogical, one could never prepare for the things it could make one feel or how it clouded the thought process. He couldn’t look at John, there was nothing that could prepare him for what he was sure would be utter disappointment on his face. Instead, he fixed his gaze at a suddenly very interesting spot on the carpet in front of the fire place.

When he spoke it was barely above a whisper. “Why wouldn’t you? Why would you want to stay and live with a man who’s clearly been in love with you since the day you met? I understand, John, I’m not an easy man to live with. Besides, everyone leaves eventually. The only reason Mycroft’s still around is because he has to be. I knew this day would come and so I’m not going to try to make you stay.” “Did you just compare me to Mycroft?” John’s heart broke, how could Sherlock think that he was so undesirable, so replaceable? He gently brought his hands up to Sherlock’s face, forcing his gaze towards his face. “One, for a genius, you can be a real idiot sometimes. Two, I love you too. And three, don’t ever compare me to Mycroft again because there’s no way in hell your brother would ever do this.”

This was it. The moment that John had been waiting for more or less since the day he first moved in to Baker Street with this strange, incredible man. John slipped one of his hands to the base of Sherlock’s neck and brought his head down a little. He reached up and gently pressed his lips against Sherlock's, making sure to keep things light and sweet. The last thing he wanted to do was scare him away. It only lasted a few moments before John pulled away.

“John…” Sherlock’s voice was smooth and low, and he kept his eyes closed.

“Sherlock, if you meant it, if you meant everything you’ve told me then there’s no way I’m ever leaving. I’m in love with you too.”

It was all too much for Sherlock to process at once. John’s feelings. John’s lips. John’s actual, real, live lips and not Mind Palace John’s lips. John loved him. John said he loved him. But did he really? Did he know what it would mean to love him?

“John, I, I don’t understand. How can you love me when I’m a freak? How can you love me after really getting to know me, how horrible I can be? Why me when you could have anyone else in the world?”

“Oh Sherlock,” John reached up and wrapped his arms around Sherlock pulling him in close. He felt Sherlock’s arms go around his waist as he rested his head on John’s shoulder.

“I love you because I’ve seen how incredible you can be, how much talent you have, and what a good person you are. I love you because you’ve brought me back from the edge so many times, you are the sole reason why I’m still here. I love you because I’ve never been happier in my life than when I’m with you.” John gently placed kisses on the top of Sherlock’s curls. “You say that I could have anyone that I wanted in the world, but consider for a moment that you’re the one that I want in this world. You are my world, Sherlock, and I’m so sorry it took me this long to tell you. I was scared, and I didn't know how you felt and the last thing-” He took a deep breath to steady himself, "Sherlock, the last thing I wanted was to have to be apart from you again because you were uncomfortable with how I felt. I'm sorry, and I love you."

Sherlock’s heart swelled. He didn’t think he would ever be so lucky as to be able to have John Watson to himself. He closed his eyes and held John tighter, afraid that the moment might slip away too soon. He contemplated all the things he could say in response, but none of them seemed right. John wasn’t going to leave. More than that John wanted to stay and be with him. The whole thing was unimaginable. It felt as though his whole life had led up to this exact moment. He had a chance to be happy with John and he was going to do everything he could to make the most of that chance. He was dimly aware of John’s fingers rubbing lightly at the base of his neck.

“Sherlock? Alright, love?”

Sherlock let out a content hum. “I heard you.”


End file.
